


Aftermath

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imaginary extra "fix-it" scene after the ending of 03.10</p><p>Warning: spoilers for ep 10 of season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> For all those who, like me, felt a little hard done by after watching 03.10's offering... if it could be called something as nice as that.
> 
> 85 kudos. You guys.

Ichabod needed a swift kick to the posterior. Unfortunately, no one was around to assist with that, and he couldn't reach himself - more was the pity.

Joe and Jenny's chatter faded away down the hallway as he closed the door behind them. The foursome had decamped to Team Witness' (as he had begun to think of himself and Miss Mills, fondly) house for coffee and dissecting of Abbie's long, torturous incarceration in the Underworld, and her eventual escape thanks to her bond with Ichabod, plenty of quick thinking, and Betsy Ross' discarded cutlass.

After two long but enjoyable hours of talking and catching up, with plenty of hugs between the sisters Mills, Abbie had announced that she hadn't showered in ten months, or so it felt, and had tromped off to the bathroom.

Ichabod had tried his hardest not to stare after her, but evidently he had failed, and hugely, because Joe had taken that moment to stand up. "You two probably, ah, need to catch up on stuff," he'd said gruffly.

Jenny had started to chuckle but turned it into a cough. "Yeah. Stuff. See you soon, Crane."

So now he was alone with his thoughts. He had three main trains:

1\. Bone-deep relief and unfettered joy at Abbie's return to this plane.

2\. Rage at Pandora's nonchalant severing of his astral tether.

3\. And mostly, horror at his cowardice earlier in the Archives.

For several long moments back then, everything and everyone except her had dropped away from his senses.

After a drought of weeks that had felt longer than years, she was back - solid and real and so achingly beautiful, he'd forgotten to draw breath. Her skin was so soft. Her eyes dark pools he'd gladly drown in. And suddenly with her so close, the words he'd kept at bay seemingly forever hovered on his tongue, fiery with the need to be spoken.

And then out of the corner of his eye, Jenny had made the slightest movement. And he hadn't wanted to serve his heart and soul on a plate in front of... in front of anyone else. It had to be a special moment. One to savour, just between the two of them.

So he'd churned out that ridiculous chess remark, and had to bite his own cheek afterwards to stop from cringing.

She'd taken it well, laughing along with the others, but he'd seen the look on her face afterwards. His Lieutenant had been expecting something else entirely. Something he was only too ready to give.

To stop from smacking himself in his fool face, Ichabod set about stacking the dishwasher, until footsteps on the stairs alerted him to Abbie's presence.

She stood in the kitchen, a vision in a terrycloth robe. An angel, or a Madonna in a painting. Her glorious mane of dark hair exploded in a riot of curls, damp from the steam off the shower. Her feet were bare, and that detail somehow brought him up short - bare feet seemed a new kind of intimacy, along with the triangle of skin the neck of her robe exposed.

All the air seemed to vanish from the room as he carefully stacked the last plate in the dishwasher and closed it. "Lieutenant."

She crossed the space between them, and lifted a hand to run it through her hair. "God, I missed having a shower. The underworld really needs to up its amenities. I can't give it anymore than one star on Tripadvisor."

"Ah yes." He couldn't look away from her face. He never wanted to look at anything else as long as he lived. "The internet portal on which one can review guesthouses and attractions."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "The Ritz, it wasn't." She glanced down at her feet, as if surprised to see a wooden floor beneath them. When she lifted her head again, those enchanting eyes had turned serious. "Crane, in the Archives, you said you had something you'd forgotten to tell me."

She stepped closer still, and Ichabod couldn't move. The arresting expression on her face pinned him to the spot. "I had a feeling - I still do - that it wasn't anything to do with chess."

His mouth went dry. "It was not."

"But you didn't want to tell me... infront of Joe and Jenny."

"You are as perceptive as ever." He did manage to move now, taking one of her small hands between both of his, holding it to his heart, as he'd done hours earlier. He'd wanted to do so, so much more. He'd wanted to wrap her in his arms and never, ever let her go again. He still didn't know if he'd be able to go to sleep at night without waking up in a cold sweat, fearing that she'd disappeared again.

"So." She squeezed his hand. "What _did_ you want to say to me... that you couldn't say infront of my sister?"

Ichabod took a breath, inhaling the heady scent of Abbie's shampoo. His heart beat a ragged tattoo, the organ doing its best to jump into his throat and silence his voice. But he wouldn't be a coward again. "What I wished to convey to you.... should be done in private." He lifted his other hand and cupped her cheek, gently running his thumb along her bottom lip. So soft. She was a study in contradictions, his better half. So soft and yet so hardy. She had survived so many tribulations, both alone and by his side. 

He'd never leave her side again, whilst he could still draw breath.

A long moment ticked by as he searched for the words. And then his heart pounded in his ears and he decided to just throw them out there. Consequences be damned. "I've been a fool to not voice my feelings before. A blind idiot." He swallowed, searching her gaze. He found hope there in her expectant expression, and the potential for happiness hovered in his chest. "I am, and perhaps have always been, in love with you. Unequivocally and without question or boundary."

There. He had done it.

A single tear tracked down Abbie's cheek as she gazed up at him, her dark eyes shiny, and their kitchen was suddenly the most magical place Ichabod had ever found himself in. "When I first woke up in the underworld, I'd imagined saying it to you. And hearing it back. But that.... that blows the top off any one-sided fantasy I've ever had."

Unable to help himself, he yanked her close, needing to feel her small, perfect form against him. "Never was it one-sided. You must believe that."

She wrapped her arms around him, tight. "I believe you, always. You came for me. After all that time."

The moisture of her tears soaked into the material of his shirt. "Know this. I will ever and always find you, no matter how far you might go, no matter what it takes."

They held each other for a long, long time, warmed by all the memories they'd made together, and by the glow of a late afternoon sunbeam, streaming in through the kitchen window. 


End file.
